


Among the Trees of the Forest

by Daegaer



Category: Original Work
Genre: 19th Century, Abusive Relationships, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), F/F, Forests, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Interspecies Romance, Miscarriage, New Caledonia, Parent Death, Religious Cults, Running Away, Sasquatch, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Safe from the evils of the world in her distant community, Reverend Newman's daughter Elizabeth meets a strange being in the woods whom she comes to love.
Relationships: Female Backwoods Cult Prophesied Leader/Her Female Bigfoot Lover
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14
Collections: fandomtrees





	Among the Trees of the Forest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



When the treaty to settle the boundaries of Oregon was signed at last, Elizabeth's family and friends found themselves divided from their starting point by an international border. They had already wandered far in their pilgrimage to avoid the temptations of the world and the coming conflagration that would consume all the sinners as the dry straw is consumed in flames at the end of summer. Her father, the Reverend Newman, said it was a further sign of the righteousness of their actions, that the Lord had closed the path behind them, had guarded the way against those whom might pursue those whom he had chosen. If any of his friends felt that a line on a map might not be much of a thick hedge in the path of those seeking a way, they kept the thought firmly behind their teeth. They had by that time already reached Vancouver Island, which seemed remote enough to be safe from all wars and tribulations.

For three years they lived on the island, surrounded by traders, and soldiers from the fortress. They were rough men who did not listen to the Reverend Newman's warnings and who leered at the women, offering them flowers to tuck into their bonnets and trying to speak to them, as if they were harlots who would speak to a sinner. Elizabeth and her friend Hannah did not know such men were irredeemable sinners at first, for they were very small when they were brough to the island, and the men sometimes sighed sadly when they looked at them, and said they made them think of their own small daughters. Even better, the soldiers wore bright red coats, and once one of them gave Elizabeth and Hannah a good-sized lump of sugar to share, calling them, "Fair, pretty maids."

There were other people on the island too, very many other people, with darker coloured skin and dark eyes. They didn't wear red coats or dresses cut to be unworldly and more modest than the fashions of the times, but clothes of leather. When they came to the settlement to sell furs or game and spoke to one another, it was in no speech Elizabeth could understand; she thought it might be the gift of tongues, until her mother explained that such people were heathens and she was not to so much as look at them. Everyone had to honour their father and mother, the Lord said so, but it was hard, for Elizabeth had looked very hard just that day at a solemn-faced little girl her own age with coppery skin and long black hair, who had looked back at her unsmilingly and whom she had wished with all her heart she could speak to and would be her friend.

At the end of three years Reverend Newman announced that the new Fort Victoria was already become too worldly and was like to be consumed in the great conflagration along with all the rest of sinful mankind. They would have to leave.

"Should we go further out on the island?" Mr Whitlam said. "We could go ten miles off from the town, perhaps. The tribesmen are friendly enough."

"It's not far enough," Reverend Newman said. "The influence of these sinners spreads and spreads. Now that this place has become a colony of the British we shall see more influence of Mammon, more greed and the foul workings of the evils that lie in men's hearts. I will seek guidance from the Lord."

The next morning he gathered everyone around and in great excitement told them he had the answer. They would leave the island completely and journey to the mainland. They would settle and build a perfect community in New Caledonia.

Everyone hurried around, buying the gear they would need; farm tools and woodworking implements and as much seed grain as they could find. After some discussion, the reverend allowed the purchase of powder and shot, once the need for hunting was carefully explained to him, and last of all another two heavy horses and another smaller cart were purchased; the grain and tools and bags of fodder for the horses were all loaded onto the larger cart that had transported the children and Reverend Newman's personal items. The Reverend's belongings were carefully loaded onto the smaller cart, with Mrs Newman sitting up front, little Elizabeth sitting beside her. Everyone else from grown man to small child would walk, unless they were small enough to be carried by their mothers. The dogs ranged around them, and the older boys did their best to keep the billy goat and three nanny goats under control. They travelled north from Fort Victoria until they reached Colvile Town, and with the last of their worldly money the Reverend Newman secured passage for his people on a local man's boat back to the mainland on the New Caledonian side of the new border. There would be, they hoped, no return.

A day's travel into the forest they stopped, too tired to go further. They hadn't gone very far, as it was difficult with the carts, which had to be pulled over and around many obstacles. Nor had they hired one of the natives to guide them. The Lord was the only light upon their path they needed. The men hurried to put up tents and everyone ate the food that the women pulled together. Then they all crowded under the canvas and slept in exhaustion, the dogs tied up to stand guard. Lying between her parents, Elizabeth listened to the sounds of the wind in the tree tops and the calls of the night creatures, the sounds of owls and foxes and a desolate distant hooting that she couldn't recognise. She thought she would never sleep; her father had said that the men of the world were like wolves, ever ready to rend the flesh of the faithful and that only he knew the way to evade them. She hoped they were safe now. Her father said to trust in her scripture learning and to trust and persevere in the Lord.

For a week they travelled slowly, the horses eating up the fodder and foraging along the way and then they came out into a broad meadow rising upwards in a gentle slope, everyone exclaiming in joy at the sight of the fresh grass and the sunlight. Reverend Newman examined the place, noted the nearby slow moving stream and raised his hands to Heaven in gratitude. "My brothers and sisters," he proclaimed, "Behold the foretold place where we shall build our city on a hill! Behold the site of the holy mountain!" Elizabeth peered at it and thought that it was more like a little bump, but she did not gainsay her father. That would be like speaking back to the Lord. 

Their haven of safety took time to construct, as only one of the men was a carpenter and some of the others had been important things out in the world, like clerks or watchmakers, and didn't wish to ruin their fine soft hands with manual work. Reverend Newman had to speak for some hours on the equality of all as brothers before the Lord until they gave in. Then the men grumbled about the food that the women served from communal pots, until the Reverend Newman smiled and stood up in the meeting hall, the first building they had constructed, with the great news that he had had instruction from the Lord.

"All those men who are married may have their food prepared as they like by their own wife," he said, "For does not the scripture say that a man shall leave his mother and his father – he gestured to himself and Mrs Newman – and cleave to his own wife? Of course, by this is meant only that you should leave our table!" And, before the chief grumblers, all of whom were single, could so much as look askance, he continued, "And does not Moses say that the woman was created as a help meet for the man because the Lord said it is not good for man to be alone? The following unmarried persons will marry with all haste –" And he read off the names of all the unmarried men and women in pairs, to the surprise of all and consternation of some. However, by the end of the day there were no unmarried adults and the grumbles of the men were exchanged for smug smiles the next morning.

* * *

And so the years passed, full of hard work and no book learning past the memorisation of scripture. Elizabeth grew up as tall and graceful as a willow, with strong arms and shoulders, and she could recite near any book of scripture from beginning to end. She hadn't seen anyone but those of her little community for almost ten years; her father said it was almost certain that most of them had perished in the great conflagration sent as punishment from the Lord.

What woke her early on the morning that she left the community, a basket over her arm, was worry. No one celebrated birthdays, but she thought that her sixteenth birthday was near. She had just turned six when they left to found this New Zion, and her father had spoken of how perfect the service of thanksgiving for ten years of survival must be. When he said _perfect_ , he meant _long_. She prayed for forgiveness for such a thought. Better to pray for help for her real worry; over the years her father had chosen younger and younger brides for men needing wives. A man had but to reach adulthood, or lose a wife in childbed and the nearest girl who bled each month would do, it seemed. Her particular friend Hannah had been given to a widower twenty-five years older, and now she had to address her as Mrs Alton.

Elizabeth's worry was not for Hannah, however, but for herself. Her father had been vouchsafed the information long ago in a dream that he would be succeeded in the leadership by his own blood. Everyone knew it, for he had told them at once and many times thereafter, whenever one of the men looked rebellious or spoke too freely of their own mind. And yet he had no son, just her. Her mother had endured failed pregnancy after failed pregnancy, and for two years now had been as barren as a stone. Perhaps the prophecy meant that her father should be succeeded by a grandson, and she would soon be given to the man most likely to provide one.

"I don't want to marry _anyone_ ," Elizabeth said, looking up at the slowly lightening sky. "Please, Lord. Let him forget me. Let him think I'm still six. Send me a help meet to this peril, oh Lord."

She sighed and started looking for mushrooms, quickly filling her basket. As she went deeper into the forest, wandering between the tall trunks searching for areas untouched by previous mushroom gatherers, she thought she heard someone, and paused. Yes. She heard – weeping. That was a girl, crying. Maybe it was Hannah! They could talk as they used to, none of this _Mrs Alton_ nonsense, just holding each other close – 

She crept closer, to surprise Hannah, and stopped, herself surprised. She saw a tall girl from the back with unbound curly red hair, so long that it seemed to reach all the way down to her feet, kneeling over a pool of water. She was looking at her reflection, and weeping uncontrollably. Elizabeth looked at her in the dim light, admiring the curls and wishing that _she_ had hair that long. Then her soft heart and good manners took over and she stepped forwards.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "What happened? Can I help?"

The girl shot to her feet and spun around. Elizabeth gasped, stepping back; she was so _tall_ , easily topping six foot. And she was _only_ dressed in her hair. She hissed at Elizabeth, displaying sharp fangs. There was less hair on her face, and Elizabeth knew in her heart that this creature – this person – this _girl_ was no older than she was herself; and she had a terrible bruise across her face that hurt her in body and soul or she would not have cried at her reflection.

"Your face!" Elizabeth said, touching her own face in illustration. "It looks so sore! But you are still lovely! No one should have hit you!"

The girl stared at her, then backed away, turned and fled. There was no sound to mark her passing. Elizabeth stood there, her hand outstretched, only the sound of the wind in the treetops to be heard.

That evening after service, Elizabeth goaded Amnon, one of the smaller boys, into asking for stories.

"Not a scripture story," he yelled. "A fairy story. About these woods!"

"Devilish nonsense," Reverend Newman said, and read a chapter on the furnishings of the Tabernacle instead which didn't seem to satisfy Amnon at all.

"Don't go into the woods, boy," Mr Whitlam said. "There are giants who'll eat you up. Great wild men who fight with bears and eat whole deer at each meal. They're probably descendants of the original inhabitants of Canaan seen by Joshua's spies."

"Stop that heathen nonsense, Whitlam, we must keep our tongues and minds clean," Reverend Newman said in irritation.

"Sorry, Reverend," Mr Whitlam said, but he winked at Amnon and whispered, "Giants. A native woman told me when I was buying supplies up before we came out here. They're called Sasq’ets and they eat naughty boys, so you be good."

The next morning Elizabeth took what she had saved from her dinner and left it by the pool of water, arranged on some clean leaves. When she came back the next morning it was gone, though any animal might have taken it. She put her leftover dinner out again, and went to collect mushrooms. After a full week of this she was very hungry and wondering if she had imagined the whole thing. She would try just once more.

She arranged her leftovers, looked around hopefully, then walked away from the pool. She didn't have time to do more than gasp as she was seized and pulled behind a tree, and a large hand with a smooth, leathery palm was clapped over her mouth. She looked up into the almost-human face of the girl in shock to see a frown. The girl made a low, grunting noise, and then patted her broad fingers gently on Elizabeth's lips.

"Yes, yes, I'll be quiet," Elizabeth whispered.

It was hard to keep her word as the girl wrapped a long arm about her waist and then climbed, one-handed, up a tree. She carried Elizabeth as if she were no more than a doll, and placed her on a wide branch, up against the trunk. She herself crouched as easily on the branch as if she were on solid ground, making Elizabeth feel quite light-headed. Below them nothing moved, then the bushes parted silently and another of the girl's kind stepped out below. He – and this was most definitely a he, Elizabeth had to look away – was taller than the girl by far, maybe some eight feet tall, and was broad shouldered and heavily muscled. His eyes were shadowed by a heavy ridge of bone across his forehead, and his hair was a darker red, more of a brownish colour. He squatted down by the food that Elizabeth had left and sniffed at it, then ate every scrap. When he was done he looked around and then vanished soundlessly back into the forest.

The girl looked over at Elizabeth, and stood on the branch, making a series of low, panting noises, her eyes bright.

"You're laughing," Elizabeth said in wonder. She reached out and touched the girl's arm, marvelling at the feel of the coarse, curly hair. Or was it fur? If the girl was a person surely it was hair? She held still and didn't flinch as the girl returned the favour, lifting one of her plaits and sniffing at it, then lipping the end as if to make sure. "It's hair, see?" Elizabeth said, and freed her hair to hang in waves for the girl to examine.

"Huh," the girl said, and quite clearly meant the same by it as if she were someone Elizabeth had known all her life.

"Do you think we could go down?" Elizabeth said, pointing to the ground. "Down? I've never been this high."

The girl just looked at her, then all at once seized both her wrists in one hand, spun her around and Elizabeth found herself dangling in mid-air.

 _I mustn't scream_ , she thought. _That other one might come back_.

She looked up to see the girl lying full length on the branch, holding her down the length of one long arm. Taking her courage in both hands she looked down. It looked like the ground was only a few feet below her dangling toes. Maybe. She looked up.

"I'm ready."

She was falling and – down. She sat down hard but didn't think anything was hurt. The girl jumped down and helped her up, looking at her closely. The bruise on her face had almost healed, and the skin coated with red curls was soft as it brushed against Elizabeth's own face when the girl sniffed at her eyes, her mouth, her ears – Elizabeth jumped as soft lips and tongue explored her ear. 

"Oh!" she said, but the girl had already moved on to sniffing the back of her neck, to undoing her other plait, to removing her bonnet and sniffing that and then to plucking at Elizabeth's dress, which was heavy and old-fashioned. Unworldly, her father said. The girl lifted her skirts up to show her legs to the knees, then dropped them again. She did this several times, laughing her odd panting laugh.

"You think my clothes are funny," Elizabeth said. "At least I'm wearing clothes. You're not wearing anything! I can see your bosoms and your - oh dear."

The girl lifted the skirts and sniffed Elizabeth's kneecap, before sliding a hand up her leg.

"Oh, now, _please!_ My name is Elizabeth. What's yours?" She tapped her chest while repeating "E-liz-a-beth" over and over.

The girl looked at her in silence, and then beamed. It was rather alarming, for her fangs were very sharp.

"Ssaa," she said, and put a hand on Elizabeth's breast. "Ssaa." Before Elizabeth could protest this familiarity she did likewise with herself and made a long, complicated hooting noise.

"That noise," Elizabeth said, for she still heard it at night sometimes, "It's your people." She tried to imitate the noise that the girl made, but even to her own ears sounded only like a sad owl. The girl made her panting, laughing sound again, clearly finding it very funny. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can say your name. Would you mind if I called you Hoon?"

"Ssaa," Hoon said, and took Elizabeth's hand and put it firmly on one red-haired breast.

"Hoon," Elizabeth said. Her hand was very warm, between Hoon's hand and breast. Hoon moved it slightly and pressed it firmly before removing her own hand, as if to say, _Stay there_. It had to be some sort of custom of her people, and was polite to obey, Elizabeth supposed. And it wasn't unpleasant to copy Hoon's movements, so she did until they were apparently properly introduced. Then they sat close together and ate the mushrooms that she had collected, raw and with the dirt still on them.

* * *

The Reverend Newman didn't arrange Elizabeth's marriage that year, and she knew that the Lord had heard her prayer. All other girls of sixteen and up were married off, and the only fifteen year old as well. Abigail, who was thirteen, started stooping over so that no one would say she was tall for her age. There were so many children, all of whom would grow up and need to get married. Elizabeth knew she couldn't avoid her fate forever, but the reverend's daughter was a great prize, holding the leadership of the community in her womb. Her father would have to beseech the Lord for extra advice in her case.

Every chance she could she met Hoon by the little pool. She tried at first to preach to her new friend but Hoon just put her head on one side like a puzzled dog, and Elizabeth went back to simply pointing at things and saying their names in English slowly and clearly.

"Human," she said, point at herself.

"Ssaa," Hoon said.

"Sasq’ets," Elizabeth said, pointing at Hoon who peered at her closely. "Have I said it right? Sasq’ets?"

Hoon took a breath and said something that sounded more like a word than usual, but not like any English word Elizabeth knew. They looked at each other in frustration, then Elizabeth went back to naming things. "Girl," she said, pointing at herself. "Girl," she said, pointing at Hoon. 

"Ir," Hoon said.

"Yes! A girl is a young lady. With bosoms and an, oh dear, and when she grows up she must marry. Oh, Hoon, I don't want to. I can't bear it. I can't bear the thought of a man and, and – all of that. My friend Hannah – I have to call her Mrs Alton now – is expecting. She's so frightened. She says that the business of husband and wife is foul."

She began to cry, thinking of Hannah's fear, and her own, and how cold it was in the community almost all year round, only to be horribly hot in summer. Why couldn't she and Hannah have been allowed to be together forever, as companions, as sworn virgins? It would be better than marriage to anyone here. Hoon put a long arm about her and mouthed at her temple, crooning in a low rumble. Elizabeth allowed herself to be swept into the embrace and for Hoon to stroke her breasts, which she did to show affection. It was only when Hoon had pulled open the ties at the front of her dress and was mouthing and stroking at her breasts through her shift that she thought she should tell her to stop, but she didn't, for it had been so long since she had a particular friend, and Hoon was kind and lovely, even if she was excessively hairy.

Hoon muttered and mumbled and broke the string in the neck of Elizabeth's shift, and pushed the neck down so that she could lip the soft skin of her breasts, and lap at the small pink nipples that tipped them. Even Hannah hadn't gone that far, though she had held them in her hands, and rubbed a finger around and around. Elizabeth meant to sit up and say, "Really, Hoon," but she didn't. It seemed easier to put a hand on the back of the strange wild girl's head and stroke her curly red hair.

And when Hoon reached down and pulled up Elizabeth's skirts, as she still often did, laughing, it didn't seem worthwhile to reprimand her, or to stop her sliding her hand up her thigh and then down the waist of Elizabeth's drawers. Elizabeth lay there, gasping, her eyes on the trees overhead as Hoon's tongue and lips explored her nipples and her fingers touched her all over her – oh dear. The was definitely Hoon's broad and leathery-skinned pointer finger, sweeping slowly and gently back and forth between the mysterious folds of whatever was down there, the strong claw that topped the finger lightly tickling its way along. And now she was making a slowly sweeping, waving movement with all her fingers that was probably very scandalous and that felt very –

"Oh, Hoon," she sighed. "You're so lovely."

Hoon raised her head and smiled at her. "Ssaa," she said, and hooted gently, before putting her mouth on Elizabeth's and pushing her tongue deep between her lips. It was very strange, and yet felt delightful. She circled her fingers over and over on one spot and Elizabeth felt pleasure gathering and growing within her until she cried out and Hoon crushed her in a tight embrace, whispering "Ssaa, Ssaa," over and over.

* * *

From that time on Elizabeth found herself in Hoon's company at any time she could. Early in the morning when she was meant to be collecting mushrooms, or late at night when she had crept out to the privy, or bold as brass during the day when she had gone to cleanse herself after her monthly uncleanness. She came home scrubbed from top to toe, as Hoon hadn't wanted to stop once she had got the idea. The soap was quite used up, which Mrs Newman chastised Elizabeth for. It had vanished in the depths of Hoon's hair, which had shone such a beautiful golden-red after being washed.

"You should have more sense, you're nearly eighteen," Mrs Newman said, putting a hand in the small of her back to ease her aches. After so many years of barrenness, the Lord had seen fit to grant her another child, but the pregnancy was hard on her. She smiled at Elizabeth in exhaustion, and whispered, "I'll make you a ribbon for your birthday, I still have some scraps from an old dress. I'll celebrate your birthday, daughter, even if no one else will."

"Mother, won't Father object?"

Elizabeth whispered back.

"I'll talk him around. Anyway, what man remembers a woman's sewing?" Mrs Newman smiled fondly, as at the silliness of men. Then she sighed and spoke more normally. "We still need more soap. You'll help me make more."

"Yes, mother," Elizabeth said, for there was nothing more to say. She looked up to see her father had paused in his writing and was regarding her with interest. Oh no. He was sure the coming child was a boy, to inherit the leading of the community after him. When his son was born, there'd be no point in keeping his daughter in the house any longer. Not when she would be eighteen and practically an old maid. It was not a gift for her birthday her mother was offering, so much as an attempt to console her for losing her home. She kept her head down and went meekly about what women's work was needed.

With Hoon she was glum until the girl sternly sat her upon one red-haired knee and put a consoling hand straight up under her skirts. Elizabeth shrieked and laughed at that and then squirmed and pulled Hoon's hand away a little.

"Careful, dearest Hoon. He _will_ marry me off, he will. And I'll have to be a virgin. Oh, how I wish you spoke English, or I could speak your language. Just be careful - the outside only, dearest."

Hoon tugged her drawers down and complied, leaving Elizabeth to wonder, when she could think clearly again, if the Sasq’ets girl understood more English then she had thought. But she had other things to think on, for it was her turn to touch and Hoon made low noises of pleasure as Elizabeth stroked along the no longer unknown folds between her legs and was clear in her demands that she should put her fingers right inside her. And when she rubbed her and rubbed her, Hoon growled " _Ssaa_ " as if Elizabeth's name was the answer to some great mystery.

Mrs Newman never had time to make the ribbon; she felt unwell and did little of anything other than the simplest darning and stitching and then three weeks later her waters broke. It was almost two months too early, and she stood there looking surprised, her skirts drenched, as the Reverend Newman stood up and said, 

"I must go, this is no place for a man to be."

Then Mrs Newman staggered and caught on to the back of a chair and looked at her husband going out the door.

"Edward – " she said, and her voice was already not like the voice of a living woman.

Elizabeth couldn't remember ever hearing her parents address each other by their Christian names. Most often she forgot that they had any. Now her father turned around and said,

"Susanna?"

But Mrs Newman was already lying on the floor, and the liquid soaking her skirts was dark coloured and the heavy smell in the house couldn't be mistaken for anything other than it was.

"I'll fetch the women!" Elizabeth cried and sped out to the women who'd had babies, babies who'd lived, women who'd survived, women who would surely know how to save her mother and maybe even the little brother who would destroy her own life.

They didn't.

Elizabeth wore borrowed mourning garments for the funeral, for there wasn't that much black cloth in the community and what there was, was already in use. Hannah Alton was dying Elizabeth's older dress black for her, but it wouldn't be ready in time. Everyone agreed it would be best if Mrs Newman was buried as fast as possible; the reverend might get over his grief and get on with leading the community then.

Elizabeth did not go into the forest in the weeks after the funeral, but sometimes at dawn or dusk, she would go to the edge of the trees and stand there, weeping, and cry out, "I have lost my mother!" Once she thought she heard answering sobs from deep within the forest, but thought it was her imagination. Hoon didn't understand English, or human emotions. She had probably forgotten her.

Through it all her father seemed angry and remote, more so even than before. He forbade all new marriages until the spring, then he had a revelation that married couple should live chastely as if they were brother and sister. When some of the women of the community greeted this with joy and their husbands chastised them he said it was within a husband's right to reprimand his wife, and everyone turned aside from the sight of Mrs Brooks' and Mrs Alton's black eyes.

"Elizabeth," the Reverend Newman said, on a dreary evening as they both sat silently in the house. "Ever since your mother died I have been praying for guidance over how to arrange your future."

"Father," Elizabeth said quickly. "Why don't I stay to keep house for you? You need someone to look after you. You are so much taken up with spiritual cares that you don't tend to the needs of your own body."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, daughter," he said, not looking at her, not looking at anything. "You're eighteen now, I believe. I remember your mother saying it. I'd thought you would want to marry."

"Father," Elizabeth said. This was it. It wasn't freedom, but it was better than the alternative. "I couldn't marry one of the community. Look at how some of the women are treated - dear Hannah Bow, I mean, Mrs Alton, for example."

"Yes," her father said. He looked up briefly, frowning as if he could see things faintly in the distance. "Alton is a beast to her. I know the Bow girl is a friend of yours. I'll speak to her husband." He looked down at the table as if he had forgotten what he was saying. "I have prayed," he said at last. "I couldn't understand what I did wrong, that the Lord would take my wife and son from me. How could the vision he gave me come to pass if I am not given a son? I knew your mother's heath was delicate, but how was the community to be led after me if I had no proper heir? The Lord _promised_ me that my child would take the community after my death; He couldn't mean you, daughter. Does not Scripture say that women are not suffered to have authority over men?"

"That's certainly true, Father."

"And then it came to me, after I had fasted and prayed. The Lord would grant me a child _through_ you. It wasn't my sin that was punished when He took your mother, but her own, or perhaps just that the child she bore was weak in some way and unfit to carry on His work and should never come to fruition. But _your_ child, Elizabeth, your child –"

"But, Father," she said, "If I'm not to marry but to keep house for you –"

"Don't you see?" he said triumphantly, looking up. His eyes glittered feverishly; he had not eaten more than a few bites of food a day since Mrs Newman had died, nor had he slept over well in all that time. " _I_ will marry you. You need never fear that your own father would treat you as Alton treats his wife; and the son you give me will be perfect and will lead our people to the very end times."

"Father, no!" Elizabeth said, jumping up. "This is madness! You've got it wrong – you're distracted by grief and lack of food – please, think on this again. You know that scripture says that such ideas are wicked and evil!"

"Who did Adam's sons marry but their own close kin? Who did Noah's sons marry but theirs? Lot's daughters slept with their own father to repopulate the world – being women they got it wrong, of course, but they were following well-established principles. All through scripture we find men marrying their kin – this has come to me from the Lord, daughter. Do not quibble further. I know it's merely that you are still upset over the loss of your mother. We'll tell the community tomorrow, and will wed on this coming Lord's Day."

He stood up and crossed to the door, locking it and slipping the key into his pocket. Elizabeth stood there, transfixed with shock and revulsion.

"Go to bed, daughter. You will have much work organising the wedding."

The next day Elizabeth waited while her father made the announcement and all the community whispered behind their hands. No one said anything, and Elizabeth's heart sank as she saw that they were all simply too used to obeying his pronouncements. They might find it strange at first, but if it were truly a word from the Lord no one would argue in public. Perhaps they were even relieved, for it took away the question of who should marry Elizabeth and take on the burden of leading the community. It was one thing for a man to dream of leading, another for all his neighbours to look at him and think that for year upon year he had followed and now led simply because of the woman who lay beside him at night. 

"What does Miss Newman say?" Hannah called out suddenly, and Elizabeth loved her for it; Mr Alton seized Hannah by the arm and shook her and would have no doubt done more if she was not so near her term with her second child and they were not in public. The Reverend Newman sighed and said,

"My daughter is an obedient woman."

"Father, let me lead the women by example," Elizabeth murmured, and he looked at her with approval. She stepped forwards keeping her head bent. Hannah had cared enough to speak out. Surely she would understand what she saw there, before her eyes. _Lord, let my friend hear my heart, not my words_. "We should not doubt the revelations vouchsafed to the Reverend Newman," she said clearly. "He led us here, where we are safe from the temptations of the world and the great conflagration –"

" – and the crops barely feed our growing families," someone grumbled, willing to interrupt her where they would never to so to her father.

" – and the Lord carries us in the palm of His mighty hand. As for me, with whom did the sons of Adam wed, or the sons of Noah? Scripture tells us there were only people of one family in both cases! My father follows this fine example." As she spoke the final sentence she raised her head and looked right into Hannah's eyes with the flat, untouchable expression they had always used when forced to say that which they did not wish. It was how they had promised not to speak to soldiers who gave them sweets and wept for their own little daughters, how they had promised not to look in smiling awe at the children who came with their parents to sell furs, how Hannah had recited her wedding vows. Hannah nodded very slightly and bent her head meekly.

"Well done, Elizabeth," Reverend Newman said. "Be about your work now."

"Yes, Father."

Within an hour Elizabeth collected a bundle of clothes and food from Hannah, kissed her face as they both cried, and then ran flat out for the forest and refuge.

* * *

"Hoon! _Hoon!_ "

She was deeper in the forest than she had ever been and she was completely lost. She tried shouting out Hoon's real name but knew she was calling out gibberish. When a tall red-haired figure stepped out of the trees she sighed in relief. Then she stepped back. It wasn't Hoon. It was a young-seeming male who looked at her in interest. He sidled closer as she backed away, his member rising and thickening, then he sprang across the gap between them and knocked her to the ground. He pulled in confusion at her skirts – and was suddenly gone.

Elizabeth scrambled up, her heart racing, to find Hoon standing there holding a large tree branch. She had slammed it into the young male, she realised. He rubbed his head and sat up. He growled at Hoon, hooting at her. She hooted back and shook the branch at him. He sniffed the air and made a dismissive gesture and said a word full of clicks and consonants. Hoon's eyes widened and she made a series of staccato barks as he shambled away, clutching his bleeding head. Elizabeth suspected she was hearing unladylike language.

"Hoon!" she cried and flung her arms around Hoon's waist. The wild girl was taller now than when they had first met, more than seven feet tall, and she was a solid dependable thing to hold on to. "I couldn't come before now. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Ssaa," Hoon said. "Ssaa." She hugged Elizabeth close and then sat them both down on a log. "Ssaa," she said, and poked Elizabeth in the chest before drawing a spiral on the ground with one finger. She traced over the spiral a few times murmuring "Ssaa" until Elizabeth sighed.

"I was walking in circles. That's what you mean – were you watching me?"

Hoon hugged her, and Elizabeth wondered again just how much English she knew.

"That one," she said indicating where the other Sasq’ets had gone. "Thank you for chasing him away."

Hoon rolled her eyes, a perfectly human gesture, and said a word that might mean _idiot_ or might mean _men_ and certainly meant she had no high opinion of that particular person. She sniffed at the bundle that Elizabeth was carrying.

"Hoon, my mother died, and my father wants me to replace her – he wants to marry me! I don't know if you understand how awful that is. You wouldn't want your father to marry you, would you? He wants me to have his baby; he says I can't inherit the community's leadership. But why not, Hoon? Why isn't the Lord telling him that I should lead? With God anything is possible - look at you! So I've run away, only I don't know what to do. My friend gave me her brightest-coloured dress that she thinks wouldn't be out of place in a town, or not much. But I don't know how to live in a town. I can only live out here. What can I do?"

Hoon looked at her, then kissed her. Then she interlaced their fingers, Elizabeth's work-hardened ones with her much larger soft-leathery ones, and tugged her up. She pulled her along, deeper into the forest and they strolled along. By mid-afternoon they came to a large tree with a rotten bole that had been cleared out to leave a shelter. Hoon hooted softly and pushed Elizabeth gently inside.

"Is this your house? It's very nice."

Hoon patted Elizabeth's lips gently and walked off. Three steps away and she was simply gone. Elizabeth sat down and let her shoulders droop. She was only being polite; the shelter wasn't really very nice at all. At least it was dry. It seemed an eternity before Hoon reappeared, carrying a large bundle of ferns and two rabbits. She heaped the ferns in the back of the shelter and skinned the rabbits by simply tearing the skin from them with her claws and fingers.

"I have flint and steel," Elizabeth said, seeing quite clearly that she would be offered a raw and bloody rabbit. 

She gathered kindling and firewood and cleared an area to light a fire. Hoon hissed in astonishment at the flame and seemed entirely dubious about the idea of cooking her catch. However, she allowed Elizabeth to take charge and cook their meal, and ate the cooked rabbit afterwards, although it was obvious she didn't think much of it.

"I'm never going home," Elizabeth said, after they had eaten and the fire was out. "Not while Father wants that. It's wrong, and I know he'll come to see it." She took off her bonnet and undid her hair. Then she undid her dress and stepped out of it. She pushed down her stockings and her drawers and stood there in only her shift, shivering. "I've missed you, Hoon."

Hoon scratched herself and pulled at the shift, laughing her odd laugh. Then she pulled it over Elizabeth's head and tossed it aside. She picked Elizabeth up and carried her into the shelter, laying her down on the heaped ferns and lying over her. She sniffed and licked her way from her neck to her breasts, one large, clawed hand tracing its way down over Elizabeth's stomach. She made a ticklish spiral on Elizabeth's inner thigh as the girl moved her leg and then Elizabeth sighed as a finger stroked in the centre of the folds between her legs.

"Dearest Hoon," she said, reaching down. "Why are you so big? It's hard to reach."

Hoon laughed and brought her fingers back into view, holding them very close together.

"Ssaa," she said pityingly.

Elizabeth smacked her shoulder lightly.

"You do understand English. Hoon – please, do everything you wanted to before. I want you to. Please."

Hoon at once put her lips on her breast and her hand back between her legs. Elizabeth stroked Hoon's head as she felt herself being explored in more detail than she had allowed Hoon before. Hoon licked and nibbled her way to her stomach and further down, which Elizabeth had also not allowed her, and had in fact fled in surprise and shame when Hoon had attempted it once before. Now she lay there and felt herself held open and Hoon's tongue lick all along her, a little rough but warm and welcome. She had thought that Hoon would want to do such a thing only once, but the girl did it again and again, her tongue keeping up its warm, wet pressure before settling on the spot that Elizabeth knew would make her finish, and Hoon pushed a large finger right inside, carefully and slowly.

Elizabeth cried out and writhed on the ferns, unable to keep still, and shook all over when she came to completion. When she opened her eyes Hoon was lying beside her, sucking her fingers.

"I want to do that for you," she said, and rolled over on top of Hoon.

It was perhaps more difficult when one's dear love was so hairy, but she felt she did all right, even if Hoon made odd noises and pressed her head down too hard, leaving her snuffling in salty-damp red curls that tickled her face and stuck to her cheeks. When Hoon finished she howled, and dragged Elizabeth back up her body and kissed her fiercely. They slept in a tangle of hair and ferns, and knew nothing until the morning.

* * *

They woke to the sounds of men shouting and dogs barking. Hoon shot to her feet, instantly alert. Elizabeth was slower, her mind still full of dreams and the night before. Then the shouts began to make sense.

"Elizabeth!"

"Elizabeth Newman!"

"Elizabeth!"

"No," she said in horror. "Hoon, we must run! We must run _now_. They have dogs, do you know dogs?"

Hoon made a sound that was very like a dog and Elizabeth nodded, taking her arm.

"Yes, yes! They'll smell us!"

 _Oh, Lord,_ she thought. _Protect us. I asked you to send me a help meet for peril, oh Lord. Do not forsake me._

At that moment Mr Alton, Hannah's husband, burst into the little clearing, his rifle slung at his back and stood in amazement, staring at them.

"She's here!" he yelled. "She's with - some sort of monster!"

"Hoon's not a monster!" Elizabeth cried.

"Girl, why are you naked like a slut?" he said and started forwards, his dog hanging back, whining. It ran back and forth in anxious haste, desperate to flee yet even more desperate not to leave its master's side

Hoon stepped in front of Elizabeth, holding her back with one hand and making an unmistakeable gesture with the other. _Go away. Get out of here._ She barked twice in a high-pitched tone, displaying her fangs.

"Another naked slut," Mr Alton said in contempt. "It’s some sort of ape-woman!" he yelled and then unslung and loaded his rifle with shot and powder as fast as if he was a soldier from the fortress. Hoon just watched him, and was taken off-guard when Elizabeth evaded her to run around and grab at the rifle to jerk it upwards as Mr Alton fired. Hoon cringed at the loud noise and stared in shock at the damage done to the bark of her tree.

"Get off, you filthy whore!" Mr Alton yelled, and shook Elizabeth free. He back-handed her across the face, sending her staggering. As she regained her footing she heard Hoon roar in fury, a sound like she had often imagined an angry lion would make, and a fast-moving streak of red-brown leapt on top of Mr Alton as his dog shrieked in utter terror and fled. Mr Alton also screamed, there was a noise like the rabbits being skinned the previous night but much louder and then silence.

Elizabeth stood there, looking at Hoon holding Mr Alton's body in one hand and his head in the other, and decided that it was very important that she didn't faint.

"Hoon," she said. "Hoon, drop that. You have to run. You _have_ to. I think, I think I have to stay, to explain about his death. To say you didn't mean it."

Hoon dropped both parts of Mr Alton and looked around, seeming dazed. She looked at the scar the rifle shot had left, and the body, and lifted her head, listening to the shouts, which were coming closer and now were crying out, "Alton!" as well as "Elizabeth!" She picked up a heavy piece of wood and walked to her tree, then beat it against the hollow trunk, making a loud reverberating noise that would echo for miles. She did it again, and there was a faint echo from far away. She turned and walked to the edge of the trees and stopped, holding a hand out to Elizabeth.

"Ssaa," she said. "Ssaa. Hoon. Ssaa."

"I don't think I can," Elizabeth said, crying. "I want to, but – I should tell Hannah. She won't be sad about him, but she should know. Shouldn't she? She and I – but we were just girls. And you – Oh, Hoon. If they see you, they'll kill you."

Hoon came back and laid a gentle hand on her face and then traced the same place on her own. She said something in her own language, quietly and sadly and stepped back holding out her hand.

"Eee-ssaa-beh," she said, very carefully. "Eee-ssaa-beh, Hoon."

"Hoon and Elizabeth," Elizabeth said. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to try to explain what had happened to Mr Alton. How could she, without saying too much about Hoon? "I'll go where you go," she said. "I'll be part of your people. I know we share the same Lord already, because who else could have made you? Take me with you, my dearest."

She put her hand in Hoon's and walked into the trees. Hoon swung her up onto her back and climbed into the trees, jumping from branch to branch to evade the dogs seeking a scent. The calls got further and further behind them as the forest got deeper and deeper, leaving the world of humankind behind. Ahead of them stretched an endless, ancient world in which they could be something new and unguessed.

Elizabeth had no idea where they were going, if they were seeking out the source of the far-distant echo or avoiding it. All she knew was that Hoon loved her and she would always be trusted, always protected, and she could therefore always hope and persevere. All her scripture learning told her so.


End file.
